


recovery

by orphan_account



Series: help me breathe [1]
Category: Topp Dogg (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gangs, M/M, graphic depictions of gore and such, just... mentions of Bad Things happening to hyosang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-01
Updated: 2015-05-01
Packaged: 2018-03-26 14:08:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3853489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sangdo takes care of his members, like a good sect leader, so he doesn't know what he'll do if something's happened to Hyosang.</p>
            </blockquote>





	recovery

**Author's Note:**

> so hey. this is one of my favorite universes that me + my bf have ever created and definitely my favorite that i've ever written.  
> also is this really the first hyosangdo fic on ao3??? really??????????????? i thought this was where rarepairs went to die what happened
> 
> but i hope you all enjoy !! i'll probably post the other fics in the series too (there's about... six rn? i think??) esp if there's good feedback on this one!!

“It looks gross, look at it.” Sangdo isn’t looking, so Hyosang puts his hand over Sangdo’s phone screen, fresh cut on his thumb in full view. **  
**

“Ew, it does,” Sangdo agrees, putting his phone away and carefully holding Hyosang’s hand in his own, kissing the cut gingerly despite the blood still welling in the wound.

Hyosang laughs, turning his hand in Sangdo’s grasp so he can pat at his face. “You’re dumb, don’t do that. You could get sick or something.”

“I’m not afraid of anything you’ve got, babe,” Sangdo says in retaliation, leaning in to kiss Hyosang. Hyosang lets him, nuzzling his face against Sangdo’s cheek after he pulls away. “Besides, it’s your birthday tomorrow- you need a little special treatment today, it’s your last day as a twenty-one year old.”

“Ugh, gross.” Hyosang groans, resting his forehead against Sangdo’s temple. “Don’t do anything- anything big, I just want cake and a kiss.”

Sangdo laughs, turning so he can hug Hyosang close. Hyosang settles into his hold, resting his head against Sangdo’s chest, hearing his heart thumping steadily. “I love you lots, but I’ve got special things planned for tomorrow, and you aren’t taking them away from me.”

“Ughhhhhhhhh.”

 

When Sangdo wakes up, Hyosang isn’t there. He set his alarm a little earlier so he could make breakfast for Hyosang, so he could wake him up with a kiss and a cuddle, a good start to the rest of the day. But he just isn’t there.

Sangdo doesn’t think anything of it, just gets up and walks downstairs. He smells something, food- sausage and eggs, wafting to him from the kitchen. He smiles, figuring that Hyosang had the same idea and woke up before Sangdo did, but when he walks into the kitchen there’s just Jiho standing at the stove.

“Morning, boss,” Jiho says cheerily, shifting eggs around in the skillet before him. “Did you sleep well?”

Sangdo ignores him in favor of looking around the house, going from the kitchen into the living room and down the hall, looking through the rooms downstairs and then going back up the stairs. He loops around to his- their- room, standing in the middle of the room and staring at the bed.

He hears footsteps and doesn’t turn around when Jiho enters the room, knocking on the door softly to announce his arrival. “Boss? What are you looking for?”

“Where’s Hyosang?” Sangdo asks, voice soft.

“Hyosang? I didn’t see him this morning when I got up, I figured he was still asleep…”

Sangdo turns, not to Jiho but to his closet, walking to it and opening the door so he can sift through it for something to wear. He pulls out heavy things, things that don’t really match, but it’s cold outside and he doesn’t feel like freezing to death.

“What are you doing? Maybe he went to the store, have you tried calling him?” Jiho suggests, and Sangdo points to the nightstand in reply. Both Sangdo and Hyosang’s phones are laying on it, side by side as usual, along with Hyosang’s jewelry and wallet.

“If he was going somewhere, Jiho,” Sangdo says while pulling on a pair of jeans over his pajamas, unable to keep his voice from shaking, “he would have taken that. He can’t go anywhere without his I.D. or card, and he wouldn’t- he’d know I’d  _worry_ -”

“Calm down, calm down… look, I’ll- I’ll help you look, alright?” Jiho pauses a moment, taking Sangdo’s silence as acceptance, so he disappears, presumably to go to his room to get dressed.

Sangdo takes a few deep breaths and finishes getting dressed, snatching his phone off the stand before walking downstairs hurriedly and going to the hall so he can pull on his shoes. He doesn’t have the time to wait for Jiho, he has to leave- he stops long enough to put on his coat and scarf, the ones that Hyosang bought him.

When he leaves and starts down the street, towards the convenience store that they frequent, he hears Jiho yelling his name behind him. He doesn’t turn, but he lets Jiho link arms with him as they walk down the street. It’s good to have someone else in this sort of weather, and Jiho looks under-dressed for his own standards and partially for the weather when Sangdo bothers to glance over. Sangdo can’t help himself, so he untucks the long ends of his scarf from his coat and wraps them around Jiho’s neck gently.

He takes care of his members- any good sect leader does, so Sangdo won’t be able to handle it if something happened to Hyosang.

 

Jiho drags Sangdo back home after two hours of searching because he can’t feel his nose and Sangdo is starting to look pale, and he doesn’t think it’s because of the cold. He wraps Sangdo up in a blanket and turns on the TV, leaving the remote in Sangdo’s cold hands and walking down the hall to bang on Sanggyun’s door.

“God, Jesus, I’m coming, you don’t have to fucking break it down-” Sanggyun’s muffled voice becomes clear with the opening of the door, him still muttering expletives. “What do you want?”

“Do you know where Hyosang is?” Jiho asks, pushing inside Sanggyun’s room and grimacing at the mound of dirty laundry. “Please put that in the laundry basket.”

“No. And also, I don’t know where he is, I haven’t seen him- where were you?”

Jiho flops onto Sanggyun’s bed, making a choked noise when he sees that his head has landed in the vicinity of some very gross looking tissues. “Ew, what the fuck, clean that up. And me and Sangdo were out looking for him, we can’t find him anywhere and nobody’s seen him… I have no clue where he’d be, he didn’t take his phone with him and I don’t think he’d leave without that.”

Sanggyun dutifully clears the bed of any personal issues before sitting beside Jiho, folding his legs up and hugging his knees. “Well, like- do you think someone took him?”

“Took him?” Jiho repeats, sitting up and turning to face Sanggyun. “Who’d take him- oh. Oh.”

“Yeah, you see my point.” Sanggyun runs a hand through his hair, shaking his head a little so his long locks settle the way he wants. “They’d totally take him, I- I don’t know why, or-”

“They’re going to kill him, most likely.” Jiho interrupts flatly, taking a deep breath. “Or, fuck him up beyond all belief.”

Sanggyun sighs. “I don’t want to go over there for nothing, maybe he’s just- on a really long walk, yeah. Or a really long shopping trip, maybe he forgot his phone or something… I don’t know. I don’t want to get torn apart for nothing.”

Jiho nods in agreement, flopping back over and groaning into Sanggyun’s pillow. “I don’t know what to do, Sangdo’s gonna be so upset until he comes back…”

“If he comes back at all.” Sanggyun adds, settling back so he’s leaning up against his headboard.

“Yeah, yeah.”

 

Sanggyun wakes up first for a change, wandering into the kitchen to get a juice box from the fridge and some leftover biscuits from the other day. It’s been three days since Hyosang went missing, and Sangdo barely ever left his room, so Sanggyun and Jiho have been living off of leftovers for the most part. They’re both terrible cooks, so what turns out good is saved.

He’s finishing off his juice box in the living room, sitting on the sofa wrapped up in blankets, when there’s a knock on the door followed by a dull thud. He sighs, thinking for a moment that it’s just the mail carrier or something, but it’s seven in the morning and the mail doesn’t run until at least noon. So he gets up, shuffling to the door still wrapped in blankets, and opens the door. The door hits something on the porch, so Sanggyun thinks it’s a box or something, but then it doesn’t move easily enough.

“Ugh, I can’t believe I have to fucking- leave the house- stand outside on the fucking porch- fuck! I stepped in something wet, is it- oh my god.”

It’s red, very red, and he’s standing in it. And it’s coming from-

Sanggyun fairly screams. “Hyosang, Hyosang, oh my god,” he drops to his knees, disregarding the fact that he’s now kneeling in a puddle of blood, and turns Hyosang over so he can see his face- “Holy shit. I… holy shit.” He stares for a moment, stares at the bruises that haven’t faded yet on Hyosang’s forehead and along his cheeks, stares at the blood drenching his face, stares at- “Holy shit!”

Sanggyun nearly falls back down when he stands to open the door wider, pulling Hyosang inside and screaming, screaming for Jiho, screaming for Sangdo, just for someone to come help. Jiho answers his cries first, annoyance fading into alarm and then horror when he sees the marks of blood smeared across the front entrance, the blood pooling onto the steps down to the door, Sanggyun looking up at him where he still stands at the second landing of the steps.

“I- oh my fucking god, is that Hyosang?”

Sanggyun nods, tears rolling down his face, and Jiho takes the stairs two at a time in his hurry to get down the steps, looking at Hyosang’s face. He pales. “I know, I know,” Sanggyun moans, covering his face with his bloody hands. “It’s awful, it’s awful…”

Jiho has to turn Hyosang’s head to the side to really see, but there’s slits in his cheeks and- “They fucking- they cut his face open,” Jiho says, mostly to confirm it to himself. The edges of the skin are scabbed over and a few are bleeding, dripping blood into Hyosang’s ear and onto the carpet of the living room. Jiho can see his teeth and gums. “Oh my god, okay, just- Sanggyun please stay with him, make sure he keeps breathing, I- please, please.”

Sanggyun nods, making a choked noise when he looks at Hyosang again, slowly reaching for one of Hyosang’s hands to hold as Jiho rushes off to the bathroom. “H-Hyosang, are you- are you awake, I bet this fucking h-hurts, oh god… I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, god…”

Jiho thankfully comes back with a big armful of stuff, medical supplies, and he drops to his knees beside Hyosang. His hands are shaking so badly, but he has to sew Hyosang’s face up, he has to.

“I can’t watch, I can’t watch,” Sanggyun cries, turning away but not letting go of Hyosang’s hand.

“Don’t watch, then,” Jiho says, voice thick. He doesn’t want to start crying, he needs to be able to see what he’s doing, but his vision is swimming a bit. He threads a needle with only a little difficulty and starts by Hyosang’s ear, pulling the thread through and making sure the skin lines up the way he needs it to. Halfway through the first side, Hyosang makes some sort of strangled noise and his eyelashes flutter. And then he screams.

“Shhh, shhh, shhh Hyosang please, I’m trying to fix you please don’t scream,” Jiho begs, redoing a stitch, since Hyosang ripped it. Hyosang complies, chest heaving, and Sanggyun sobs.

“Shouldn’t we take him to a hospital, I’m-”

“We can’t do that, you know we can’t. I’ll get one of the underground doctors I know to come in, but I know they won’t come fast enough- this needs to be done now.”

Sanggyun shuts up.

Jiho manages to get Hyosang’s face stitched up before Sangdo finally comes to see what the commotion is. He’s about to ask with his sleepy voice what they’re all yelling and crying about until he sees Hyosang, face being patted clear of blood, on the floor, and his legs give out.

Jiho snaps his head up and groans, returning to his work of gently cleaning Hyosang’s face. “Morning, Sangdo, have you ever had to stitch a face up first thing in the morning?”

Sangdo sobs, crawling towards them and gently brushing Hyosang’s hair away from his forehead, entire body trembling. “Hyosang, Hyosang, oh god, oh god, what happened to you, oh my god… “ He doubles over, barely touching his forehead to Hyosang’s. “I’m so sorry, I’m so so sorry, I love you so much, I’m so sorry…”

“Jiho,” Sanggyun says quietly, “he’s missing a finger.”

 

“Well,” Sohee says once she returns from the spare room down the hall where Hyosang has been housed, “that’s one of the wildest things I’ve ever seen.”

Jiho nods, and beside him Sangdo sobs into his hands.

Sohee sits on the opposite side of the table, raking her hands through her hair. “He’s going to live, at any rate, but if anything else had been done to him he would definitely be in hot water. I dare say that that’s what the plan was.” She pulls a paper out of her pocket, unfolding it and smoothing it out. “There was so much that I had to literally write it all down and keep a tally.”

She reads off her paper, listing all the injuries thoroughly. A broken nose, set with only minimal groaning from Hyosang and bandaged in place; the obvious slit cheeks, cleaned and bandaged (and dressings should be changed once every two hours, she says); a broken arm, broken fingers, broken ribs, and the pinkie finger that was cut off at the first knuckle (bandaged, and it won’t affect him much); then just many abrasions all over his body, from head to toe, scratches and bite marks and bruises in the shape of boot soles.

“He was fucked up, in short,” Sohee says, passing the paper with all its instructions to Jiho. “I don’t think it’d be that farfetched to assume Sehyuk did this, correct?”

Sangdo slams his hands on the table suddenly, making the salt shakers rattle and Jiho jump. Sohee remains still. “I’m going to fucking kill him.”

“Unless you want to end up like Hyosang, no you aren’t,” Sohee says simply, standing up and pushing her chair in. “Take good care of him, and I’ll prioritize you, so,” she looks at Jiho then, “if you need anything, call me. Give him those pain pills every five hours like I told you to. Change his dressings, let him drink water, but wait a few days to feed him anything more than broth. Alright?” Jiho nods, and Sohee smiles. “Pay me later. Have a good day.”

Jiho and Sangdo sit at the table, silence uncomfortable, long after the front door clicks shut. And then Sohee returns, causing Jiho to look up from his tightly clasped hands.

“This was taped to your door, I figure you might want to have a look.” Sohee says, laying a sheet of paper on the table in front of them. “Now I’m really leaving, goodbye.”

Jiho looks at it, reading it carefully. Sangdo sobs.

_BET YOU WERE MISSING THIS_

In a week, Hyosang can speak. The first thing he says is to Sanggyun, who’s been tasked with changing his dressings.

“I was out for a walk.”

His voice is husky and cracks and it makes Sanggyun jump. “I was out for a walk,” he repeats, moving his mouth carefully so that he doesn’t make his wound split and bleed. “And they took me.”

Sanggyun nods, gently wiping a trail of blood away from a portion of Hyosang’s wound that’s started bleeding despite his best efforts. “You don’t have to talk about it.”

“You need to know what happened.” Hyosang replies, speaking very slowly and softly. “They beat my ass.”

“I can kinda see that.” Sanggyun says dryly, grinning, and Hyosang smacks his arm with the back of his hand. It’s so soft and weak a slap that Sanggyun almost wants to cry.

“I can barely remember it,” Hyosang says as Sanggyun gently tapes the new dressing to the side of his face, smoothing down the edges. A tear falls onto Sanggyun’s finger, and he leaves it there.

“Don’t stress yourself,” Sanggyun says as he carefully turns Hyosang’s head to the side, popping the edges of the tape up so he can pull the dressing off as slowly and gently as possible.

“I’m going to be so ugly.” Hyosang whispers, and Sanggyun gently brushes his fringe away from his face.

“Sangdo still loves you.” Sanggyun says, letting his fingers linger on Hyosang’s discolored skin before reaching for the alcohol wipes, dabbing at dried bits of blood before smearing the antibiotic ointment onto the worst spots, just like Sohee told them to do. “He loves you even more, I think,” he continues, taping the new bandage to the wound just like he did the first.

Hyosang remains silent, chest moving up and down slowly, before he sighs shortly. “Am I allowed to have more pills yet?”

Sanggyun grins. “Not yet, you fuckin’ druggie. About another hour and Jiho will be up with some, I promise.”

Hyosang nods, grabbing Sanggyun’s hand when he turns to leave with his medical supplies. “Thanks, Sangie.”

“Ew, don’t call me that. But, it’s no problem. Better wounded than dead, right?” Sanggyun asks hopefully. Hyosang just laughs.

 

“I’m so ugly.”

Sangdo sighs, gently taking Hyosang’s phone from him. “Stop saying that, you’re not.”

“Stop saying that, I am.” Hyosang says, snatching his phone back and looking at his reflection in the screen once more. His face is healed enough that it doesn’t need to be bandaged every day, and he can eat thicker soups and mashed potatoes now, but he’s so, so- “I’m so ugly, why do you say that I’m not?”

“Because I don’t think you are, Hyosang, you’re still beautiful.” Sangdo says, going to gently take Hyosang’s face in his hands. Hyosang slaps his hands away, and it hurts more on the inside.

“Can I be alone for a bit, Sangdo?” Hyosang asks, sounding exhausted. Sangdo remains for a bit, seated in his chair beside Hyosang’s bed, and then nods and gets up to leave.

“I love you,” Sangdo says, and Hyosang doesn’t reply. Sangdo shuts the door behind him and walks to the living room, flopping onto the couch even though Jiho and Sanggyun are sitting on it.

“Holy Jesus, you scared me,” Sanggyun says, then begins cursing at the TV screen, because apparently his player character just died. Sangdo settles so that his legs (and by extension, feet) are in Sanggyun’s lap and his head is in Jiho’s, and they both end up using him as an armrest, which manages to make him laugh.

“Why won’t he tell me that he loves me?” Sangdo says, looking up at Jiho. Jiho sighs, and Sangdo knows it’s the same question he’s asked for the past two months, but still.

“He’s fucking traumatized, man,” Sanggyun says, shoving a handful of Cheetos into his mouth. “You can’t just bounce back from that, you have to fix him up. Like Jiho fixed up his face, y’know? You gotta fix up his heart. It’ll take a while.”

Sangdo turns his face so that it’s hidden in Jiho’s thigh and makes a choked noise, so Jiho takes one hand away from his controller and pets Sangdo’s hair with it. “It’ll be okay, Sangdo,” Jiho says comfortingly, rubbing his thumb against Sangdo’s cheek. “He doesn’t blame you, that’s not why.”

“Why else would it be, though?” Sangdo asks, turning his head so that he’s watching the TV screen. There’s flashes of red and an explosion and Sanggyun starts yelling in victory, holding his arms above his head. Sangdo laughs a little, because it’s so endearing- the other members of his sect are already over it, while he’s still pining like a baby.

“It’s okay to be upset over it, also,” Jiho says, taking his hand away from Sangdo’s face in favor of shooting some enemies on-screen. “It’s not something that’s just magically fixed. Maybe- maybe give him his ring.”

Sangdo nods. “I will later, not right now. Can I sleep here?”

“Sure, why not.”

Sanggyun makes an indignant noise, hitting Jiho with his controller. “No way dude, his feet stink!”

Sangdo pulls his legs in and rubs his feet all over Sanggyun’s legs in retaliation, and Sanggyun goes, “EW!!!” and slaps at his legs. Sangdo chuckles before curling in on himself, burying his face in Jiho’s fuzzy pajama pants and sighing.

 

There’s this short guy with bright eyes and a loud mouth that keeps saying, “I love your face!” Hyosang wants to hit him every time he gets near, but he refrains until one day, he just-

“Listen, Hojoon,” he says lowly as Hojoon recoils from the slap, rubbing his cheek, “there is nothing fucking cool about this, there is nothing attractive or pretty or interesting about it, it’s disgusting and ugly and you need to stop appreciating it.”

“But it is interesting and pretty,” Hojoon says, pausing for a moment, “and you’re just being a whiny fucking bitch.” Hyosang’s almost too stunned to speak, and even when he does open his mouth to talk, Hojoon keeps going. “Nothing’s going to change if you keep snapping and hitting people whenever they try to talk to you about it, you have to deal with it and fucking rip to shreds whoever did it.”

“Wish I could,” Hyosang growls, turning to leave. Hojoon catches his elbow with his hand and Hyosang jumps, shoving Hojoon away and making some sort of sobbing noise in the back of his throat. “Don’t touch me, don’t touch me, please don’t touch me…”

“Woah man, alright, I promise I won’t.” Hojoon says, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. “I’m sorry.”

Hyosang puts a hand over his chest, trying to calm his racing heart. “It’s- god, it’s fine, you didn’t know, I’m sorry.”

Hojoon grins. “See, progress! My name is Jeon Hojoon and Jiho loves me to death, what about you?” He extends a hand anyway, and Hyosang stares at it.

“Jin Hyosang, and uh, I guess Sangdo loves me to death.” Then he gingerly takes Hojoon’s hand and shakes it. “Nice to meet you, I guess.”

 

Hyosang wakes up crying, and he doesn’t feel like waking Sangdo up, so he walks downstairs to see Hojoon and Sanggyun on the couch watching a movie.

“Hyosang!” Hojoon calls amicably, motioning for Hyosang to continue his descent down the stairs, then patting the space beside him once he’s close. “Come, sit down, we’re watching Pixar movies.”

Hyosang sits, awkward for a few moments before he snuggles close to Hojoon, burying his face into his neck and letting out a pitiful sob. Hojoon doesn’t take his eyes away from the TV when he pulls Hyosang into his lap, a little awkward since Hyosang is very leggy, but they manage and Hojoon holds him close.

“Did you have a bad dream?” Hojoon asks softly, so he doesn’t talk over the movie.

Hyosang nods, moving to wrap his arms around Hojoon’s neck. “I dreamt about them cutting my face open again.”

Hojoon makes a noise of acknowledgement, turning his face to kiss Hyosang’s cheek. “It’s intact, I promise.”

“Do I get snuggles too?” Sanggyun suddenly asks, closer than he was before, and Hyosang shoves him away with his foot.  
  
“No, fuck off, this is my snuggle time. Do you have nightmares too?”

“Yeah, man, my parents died, of course I do.”

There’s a bit of an awkward silence before something emotional happens on screen and Sanggyun sucks in a breath, covering his face with his hands. Hyosang chuckles, poking at his side with his toes, and Sanggyun shoots him a nasty look. “Do I have permission to slap the shit out of your feet?”

“Yeah, go for it.” Hyosang says, grinning, and Sanggyun does go for it, smacking around Hyosang’s feet and ankles. Hyosang laughs, turning so he can watch the movie with them, and eventually falling asleep in Hojoon’s arms.

 

A year and Hyosang almost looks okay, almost feels okay, he can tell Sangdo that he loves him without having to force it and his sphere of tolerance moves to include Jiho and Sanggyun’s weird boyfriend, Yoonchul. But he can’t leave the house without Sangdo and he can’t walk through the house in the dark and he can’t shake his nightmares, can’t stop rubbing at every scar he knows of and wishing that he was dead instead.

One day he goes to the store and someone runs up to him and Sangdo, causing Hyosang to shrink behind Sangdo.

“Is your name Hyosang?” The person asks, breathless, and Sangdo answers for him.

“Yes, it is, what do you want with him?”

The person (kid, really, he looks no more than seventeen) straightens, taking a deep breath. “My name is Byungjoo, and I- I want to talk to Hyosang, can I?”

Sangdo looks to Hyosang for approval, so Hyosang shrugs and straightens a bit, though he doesn’t loosen his grip on Sangdo’s arm. “Sure, shoot.”

“I- can we talk somewhere more private?”

They take Byungjoo back to their house after checking to make sure he’s unarmed and unwired and he sits on the couch, fidgeting nervously. He has a bright blue band-aid on his cheek, with blood staining the pad portion of it.

“What do you wanna talk about?” Hyosang asks, sitting on the coffee table so he doesn’t have to sit beside the stranger.

Byungjoo jumps a little at his voice, chewing his bottom lip for a bit before he speaks. “It’s- I’ve run away, first of all, but- I saw you, that night, and I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, it was my fault you ended up like- oh god.”

Hyosang’s breath catches, and then he sighs. “It wasn’t anybody’s fault, Sehyuk is a piece of shit and nobody can change that. You certainly couldn’t have done anything, look at you, you look like you can’t even kill a fly.”

Byungjoo seems offended for a moment but then he sighs, nodding. “I kind of can’t, yeah, you’re right, but- I could have tried.”

“Then you would have ended up dead and I might have remembered that, that would have been awful.” Hyosang picks at a thread on his jeans, looking up when he hears Byungjoo sniffle. “Ohhh, lord. Please don’t cry, it wasn’t your fault.”

Byungjoo wipes at his eyes, hiccuping a bit, and it sounds so pitiful that Hyosang almost wishes he wasn’t so scared to touch him. “I know, hearing you say it makes it worse though, I expected you to get angry at me or something, but I’ve been thinking about it ever since…”

“Shh, it’s fine. I’m sorry you’ve- you’ve had to feel like this, for that long- god.” Hyosang slowly reaches out, patting Byungjoo’s knee awkwardly. “It’ll be fine, kid, cheer up. Don’t cry.” Byungjoo wipes his face on his shirt sleeve and nods simply, so Hyosang tells him that he’ll be right back and shuffles off to the kitchen, where Sangdo’s sitting and reading a magazine.

“Hi, Hyosa-”

“We have to keep him.”

“What?” Sangdo asks, putting his magazine down, and Hyosang repeats himself. Sangdo opens his mouth to protest, but Hyosang presses on.

“He’s run away from Sehyuk, Sangdo, he’ll be killed if Sehyuk finds him, he’s so young, please. We have to keep him.”

“He’s not- he’s not a dog, Hyosang, we can’t just keep him. Ask him if he wants to stay.”

Hyosang nods, walking back to Byungjoo. “Wanna stay here? We’ll keep you safe, feed you, there’s free cuddles…”

Byungjoo nods, tears still in his eyes, and Hyosang can’t stop himself from hugging him tight.

 

Byungjoo pines, day and night, because he can’t let go. He gets the last spare room available in the house and cries when his band-aids finally peel off of his skin, then keeps them because he can’t bear to see them in the trash.

He finds smears of blue lipstick on his shirt collar and bites his lip, looking at it for longer than he really needs to before leaving the bathroom and heading upstairs. He knows that Jiho’s out, so the one that answers his gentle knocks on the door is Hojoon, and Hojoon- well.

“My baby!” Hojoon exclaims, as usual, only half joking, and pulls him inside the room. “What is it?”

“I just- I’m sad, can I talk to you about stuff?”

Hojoon nods, motioning for Byungjoo to come sit on the bed. They end up cuddling, snug under the covers, and Byungjoo manages not to cry when he first says the name.

“H-Hansol, Hansol, I liked him a lot- no, actually, I loved him. I still love him, it’s awful, I was having second thoughts but when I told him I was leaving he just-”

_“Who gives a shit,” Hansol says, turning to look at Byungjoo. “You aren’t doing anything useful around here, just taking up space and wasting air. So who cares.”_

_Byungjoo holds back tears and takes his bag and leaves. And he leaves the band-aids on his skin and he can only hope that Hansol will leave his._

“Fucking asshole,” Hojoon whispers, holding Byungjoo tighter.

“He never loved me,” Byungjoo says plainly, not begging any sort of pity. “He never loved me, that’s all there is to it.”

 

“Man, our house is fucked up, I had to get out for a bit.”

Yoonchul nods in understanding, even though Sanggyun can’t see it from his current position- face buried in Yoonchul’s chest, arms holding him securely. Sanggyun had immediately hugged him like this as soon as Yoonchul opened the door, and of course Yoonchul doesn’t mind, he just accepts most things that Sanggyun does by now. He guides Sanggyun over to the couch, closing his front door with his foot and sitting on the couch so Sanggyun can curl up in his lap.

“Why is it fucked up?” Yoonchul asks, petting Sanggyun’s hair, and Sanggyun sighs.

“Well, we have Hyosang, who’s finally starting to open up- but he’s so clingy, it’s gross. Then we have Hojoon, who just- he loves everyone, I think, but he only fucks Jiho.” Sanggyun starts ticking them off on his fingertips, and Yoonchul smiles. “Then there’s Sangdo, being all weird and protective and fucking hateful, he yells at everyone. He’s still stressed, it’s fine. But then there’s this kid, he came from Sehyuk’s sect and he’s so strange.”

“Strange how?”

“He’s just- I dunno, he’s damaged. Not as bad as Hyosang, obviously, but he’s seen some shit. Maybe had some shit done to him. I feel bad for him.” Sanggyun sighs, shifting so he can nuzzle his face into Yoonchul’s neck. “He keeps whining about this guy named Hansol, and he keeps band-aids in a box. He’s just weird. Well- what about you?”

Yoonchul nods, turning his head to kiss Sanggyun’s forehead. “Nothing new, one of my friends came to visit yesterday. I killed someone this morning.”

“Cool, who was it?”

“Some informant guy, he wasn’t important to anyone but the guy who hired me though.” Yoonchul shrugs and Sanggyun bites at his neck, pulling at the skin with his teeth. “Be careful, there’s a bruise somewhere around there.”

“I’m more worried about making a new bruise, we gotta fix this.” Sanggyun says, twisting so that he’s straddling Yoonchul. “For the sake of leverage,” Sanggyun says quickly once his hips settle against Yoonchul’s, cheeks pink.

Yoonchul laughs and pulls him closer, brushing his hair out of the way so he can make a mark of his own on Sanggyun’s neck. “You’re silly.”

“Gross, don’t get your germs all over me.” Sanggyun whines, and Yoonchul snorts. “What?”

“My germs have been all over you for months- hell, my germs have been inside you, you didn’t complain then!”

“When was that?” Sanggyun demands dramatically, voice rising in pitch.

Yoonchul takes a deep breath, closing his eyes and making a grand gesture. “Ah, it was none other than the first time you cried my name, the first time you put scratches on my back and-”

“Oh my fucking god, stop, stop.”

 

The house gets less fucked up in those respects, when Byungjoo decides to beat the ass of his ex (by throwing a box full of brightly colored band-aids at him, no less) and when Sangdo decides to apologize to the whole household for yelling at them constantly and being a “hormonal mother, as Sanggyun put it the other night”.

The other house, well… not so much.


End file.
